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Message-ID: <62986asstr$1402657802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: The Bawdy Bloke <john@bawdybloke.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Imagine (FDom, mind)
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Date: Fri, 13 Jun 2014 07:10:02 -0400
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I closed my eyes, lying still in the cool darkness of my bedroom.

She's there, watching me as I remain motionless against the soft luxury 
of the mattress, soothing my tired muscles. I feel relaxed, yet 
expectant; calm, but excited. Waiting for her.

Waiting for her to make a move, to glide from the shadows and approach 
me on the bed. To slide her soft, latex-encased gloves to the top of my 
hairy thigh. To squeeze my flesh until I whimper and my cock rises to an 
erection. I'm waiting for my fantasy woman.

The latex leotard moulds to her elegant body with a sensual sheen, the 
fishnets add sexual textures to her long legs, accentuated by her glossy 
high heels. But it's her expression, the controlling eyes, the 
dismissive sneer and the provocative pout; she is my secretary at work, 
my wife at home, my first love at primary school and my one-night stand 
at University.

She is my dream; my cock surging as I feel fingers tapping lightly on my 
genitals, gripping my shaft and running her touch delicately over my 
head. She smiles at me, enjoying the sweet bliss warming my loins, and 
then she laughs. Taunting me. Humiliating me as my loins fizz with arousal.

I can't help it: her sneering laughs sends shockwaves through my 
stimulation. So does the teasing of my size and my sexual prowess. So 
does the reminding me of my secret sexual desires: the need have 
bisexual experiences, the repeated dreams of piss-play and the hidden 
love of sploshing stories. She reminds me of my closeted skeletons and 
I'm pathetic, she admonishes. Totally pathetic.

But I know this, and the slide of her hand over my cock as her fingers 
close around my nipple and her words batter my dignity, causes my 
arousal to surge. I'm horny, desperately so, and grunting with every 
swish of her wrist over my cock.

I squeal as her fingers bite into my nipple, begging for mercy as she 
twists her grip. It's pain; coursing through my body as she cackles 
sadistically.

Sweet music to my ears: the evil cry of my mistress, laughing as my body 
thrashes to her tune: the angry pain engulfing me, the gentle jerking of 
my cock and the evil look in her eyes.

But it's the feeling, the smooth gliding of my manhood through her grip 
that has me wriggling, and crying, bucking my hips to the rhythm of her 
hand. She licks her lips: "I have a present for you," she says, and 
reaches underneath her catsuit, pulling a zip that slides from her bum 
to her bully button. "You want it?"

Of course I wanted it. I wanted everything my woman would do to me, 
panting as her cunt was pressed against my mouth.

Cum.

And lots of it. Dripping from her sodden crotch and into my mouth.

"I've been with lots of guys," she warned. "But I know you'll like it." 
I didn't like it; I loved it. The gloopy feel of her lovers' deposits 
sliding from her well-fucked cunt and into my mouth. The musky smell, 
the warm texture, the humiliation.

Oh, the humiliation. It had my cock harder than it had ever been before 
as her weight was rested on my face and her thighs gripped my ears. I 
could feel every part of her lusciousness, smiling as her hands smacked 
my legs and her fingers patted gently on my cock.

It was bliss; she said she had fucked two hundred men and I jerked my 
cock into her hand. The thought of two hundred men spilling their load 
into my woman had me concupiscent with passion; the thrill of drinking 
their products was sending me towards orgasm.

But it was her friend, pulling my legs into the air and parting my 
ankles with one move. She kissed him as I cleaned her cunt, sucking 
mouthfuls of sticky cum into my mouth. It was gushing, flowing ever 
quicker as the lubricated head of a blunt cock rubbed against my 
resistance and my anus.

"Be fucked by Bobby," she cried, her fingers dancing over my glans. 
"He'll be gentle, baby!"

I was panting, gulping down the influx of semen into my mouth. I was 
groaning and crying, squirming and bucking as her friend filled my 
rectum with his meaty cock.

It was too much.

I couldn't stop as the flood of orgasm filled me. My prostate pulsed and 
glowed as my loins quivered and the first rope of cum seeped from my 
manhood.

Wave after wave of orgasm coursed through me: my body alive with the 
intense orgasm. My nipples burnt in pain, my testicles sizzled with 
pleasure and my partner sneering at my pool of cum, gathering in my 
belly button.

We'd been here before.

Only when I opened my eyes, I heard the feint call of my wife: "Dinner!"

"Be down in a minute," I shouted down the stairs, looking at the cum 
littering my chest and my abandoned work uniform on the floor.

There was no dominatrix, and certainly not an amalgamation of all my 
fantasies. There was no "Bobby" poking my arse with his thick cock. 
There was no squeezing of my nipples or slap of my skin.

Just my mind, taking me places I could not ever hope to visit.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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